Recovered
by spookycc
Summary: Ross and Eames travel to Tates to rescue Goren. Told from first person Ross POV.


**Recovered 1/1**

**by spookycc**

_Thanks to my beta, JudyG!_

_This is a pre-quel to my story UnBound and runs almost the same timeline as the ending of my story heaven and hell_

LOCI ep Timeline: This fic takes place during Goren's incarceration at Tates Correctional, in the episode "Untethered"...

_Rating: T for some bad words, and aftermath of Goren's ordeal at Tates_

_TOLD in first-person Danny Ross POV. _

--

Just a few hours ago, I was **almost** on my way to Lincoln Center with Elizabeth...

Sighing, I look to my left in the SUV, at the reason for the detour from my romantic evening. Eames drives, with a look of determination and worry in her eyes. She looks tired...

My mind harkens back to her heading me off at the elevator. I'd hoped I could solve whatever problem she had and then head off for the Philharmonic. Two minutes later we were back in my office and I was taking off my coat and tie.

She would have driven all night to get here, with or without me, after I told her we couldn't go to the DA or the Chief of D's. We have to get Goren out ourselves, and I'll try to clean up the logistical mess later. Our butts are in trouble, I know that much just from the conversation Eames and I have had since we took off for Tates.

Eames is very worried about her partner, an idiot could see that. But she worries about him a lot. So do I. He's been both my best solve rate and a thorn in my side, since I took this position.

Goren.

The reason for this trip.

The man is arguably a genius. But I read once that geniuses border on insanity. I'd have to say that from my perspective, this has proven true, in Goren's case. He can trap a perp with just his words, twisting them and manipulating the guilty with that way he has. The head tilts, the sideways leans, the way he seems to "see" the crime from THEIR point of view. Unorthodox? Yes. Effective? Unquestionably. But at what cost to Goren?

Eames pulls into a gas station and I hand her a couple bucks for another coffee. I fill up the tank while she steps inside the convenience store, trying to buy enough caffeine to keep the both of us going for the next however the hell many hours it is to Tates.

She returns and places our coffees in the cup-holder. "I'll drive for awhile, you look beat,"

I tell her. Rather than argue, as I thought she would, she looks relieved, and nods.

The closer we get to Tates Corrections, the more fidgety Eames gets, and the more nervous **I** get. We need to go through the proper channels to get Goren out, but if those channels don't provide instant access, she's gonna get to him any way she can.

Night passes into early morning. The high fences and concertina wire announce, long before the sign, that we've arrived at Tates. I pull the SUV up to the guard shack. A no-nonsense-looking CO walks over to our vehicle, hand on his weapon. I open the window and wait. He nods and shines a flashlight in our faces.

"We're from NYPD," I explain. "We've come to see about someone you have incarcerated here." He takes my badge, looks it over, and asks for Eames'. She hands it to me, and he glances at it, hands it back.

"Go on in. Park by the main office door." He points vaguely into the eerily-lit interior of the prison yard. I nod and close the window, waiting as he opens the main gate electronically.

Eames is out of the SUV before I have it in "park", and I rush to keep up with her as we head to the office. We flash our badges at the main desk. "We're here to see Warden Pellis."

The secretary looks at our credentials, unimpressed, and explains that the warden is not available. Someone has just faked an illness and subsequently escaped.

Eames and I exchange glances, wondering if that could be Goren.

The outside door opens, and a matronly woman enters. She has an arrogant, rather regal air, I notice in the briefest of moments. She surveys the interior of the lobby and then focuses her cold eyes on us. I make our introductions, and she motions us into her office.

Lying through our teeth, Eames and I explain away all her concerns about why Goren's prints weren't on file, and how we found out that he was here. She has the prisoner "Brady's" file in front of her, and she looks very uncomfortable.

I don't know how the hell Goren could have been diagnosed upon his arrival here with catatonic schizophrenia, unless he's an even better actor than I thought, or unless a helluva lot happened between the time he left my office and the time he ended up here.

The warden pushes a button on a phone on the wall behind her, and instructs someone that we're coming to see "Brady". I hear a whispered word that sounds like "heaven", and then she hangs that phone up and returns her attention to us.

Pellis takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid his appearance may shock you. He was-"

I feel Eames move reflexively beside me, She is barely contained. "We need to see him, NOW," she interrupts the warden.

"I understand your concern," Pellis dismisses that very concern by the tone of her reply. "We're moving him to a place where he will be safe and so will you."

"That's ridiculous," Eames is on her feet now. "He would never hurt me."

I stand and put a hand on Eames' arm, but it doesn't slow her down, not for a second. I don't know how many CO's there are between here and there, but she's going to get to her partner, one way or the other.

"If I were you," I speak slowly to Pellis, choosing my words carefully, "I would let us in to see him. Right now."

The warden stands and pushes another button on her phone. I hear her arranging for EMS transport back to the city. She then reluctantly calls a CO, and he is at her desk within a few seconds. He was outside her door waiting, no doubt, in case she was unable to divert our attention for long.

We follow on his heels, and he shepherds us into the bowels of the building. The smell of sweat, urine and God knows what else intensifies the further into the building we go.

We walk with him under a stenciled sign that says "Mental Observation Unit" and I wish I didn't notice the darkness that glitters in Eames' eyes.

Several hallways later, and in a much darker area of the building, the CO slows to a stop, and nods toward the cell on his left.

My breath catches as I see Detective Goren lying on the bed inside the cell. I step aside and let Eames push past me, not that I could have stopped her anyway.

Eames rushes to her partner, and kneels beside the bed. "Get him some damned water!" she yells to the CO, who has the good sense to head off in search of some.

I step into the cell but maintain a distance. This is Eames' place, not mine. I hear her speaking softly to Goren, and I hear her cussing to herself, as she checks him over.

The CO returns with a glass of water, and I take it from him, and hand it to Eames. This step brings me much closer to Goren. His appearance IS shocking. How could he go from a strong, healthy bear of a man to this... this shadow of himself, in the few days he's been here? There are huge dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are cracked.

As Eames attempts to wake him up, I look over the rest of Goren's wounds. His wrists and ankles are raw, and there's a deep bruise on his collarbone, where his prison jumpsuit lays open at the neck. I try to keep anger from my face, because I know how this must affect Eames already. There's no need to add to that.

"Bobby, it's me," her voice betrays none of her anger now, either. She is totally focused on bringing her partner back to her. She takes one of his hands in both of hers, careful not to touch the raw area around his wrist. His eyes flutter open briefly, and then his gaze meets hers, and he sighs, a deep sigh that rattles in his chest.

For a moment I fear he's stopped breathing. Then he slowly breathes in, and tries to lick his lips. "Easy," Eames' voice is soft and comforting. "Here, have some water. Slowly, OK?" She nods to me, and I lean in to hold Goren's head up just a bit. She gives Goren small sips from the glass, making sure he's not having trouble swallowing. His eyes close once more, but he drinks eagerly, insatiably.

He wants to drink much faster, his body's natural reaction at being denied hydration for an unGodly long period of time, but Eames is careful to regulate the sips. We can't adequately rehydrate him right now anyway, they'll have to do that in the bus. She runs a hand through his hair; he isn't even sweaty, he's lost that much fluid.

Goren slips back into semi-consciousness, and I lay his head back down. Eames sets the glass of water on the floor, and I move toward the cell door, watching for the medical help that better damn well be on its way here.

Eames sits as close to her partner as the tiny cot will allow, speaking softly - whether he can hear her or not, I don't know. I feel like an intruder now, even though I have helped her get this far. I am getting just a glimpse of how close these two are, and I remember my first instructions to Eames when I met her: Keep Goren in check. And keep me in the loop.

I'm nowhere near "in the loop" where these two are concerned, I can see that now. And maybe I don't need to be. He obviously responds to her, and she always has his best intentions in mind. As I watch - unobtrusively I hope - his eyes open once more, and he tries to raise his head, as Eames lays a hand on his shoulder. "It's OK, rest. Help is on the way," she assures him in a voice I can hardly hear.

Two paramedics push their way into the cell with a portable stretcher, and Eames reluctantly moves away from Goren. His hand reaches for hers when she lets it go, and she uses a soft voice to maintain their contact, even as the EMT's hang an IV and prep him for transport.

"Careful, watch his wrists - " Eames hovers close by.

The EMT's transfer Goren's limp body from the cot to the stretcher, and she trails behind it, all the way to the side entrance where they parked. Only then is she aware of my presence again, and she follows me out to our SUV, through the main gate, to wait for the bus.

She gets into the driver's seat without asking.

"Eames," I try to get through to her. "Are you sure you wanna drive?"

She looks toward me for a moment. I can see her rebuilding the facade she normally shows to me, the one she let slip away while she was in there with her partner.

"I'm fine," she nods, unconvincingly.

As the gates open and the ambulance pulls out, Eames puts the SUV in gear and we begin the long drive back to the city...


End file.
